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Present
Jase
For hours, she sleeps. After making her come three times in a row, she passed out. I’m sure as soon as she wakes up, she’ll regret it. She taunted me beyond comprehension. The compulsion to fuck my love back into her won over the nagging at the back of my mind that tells me this was the last time. That she’s going to walk away.
That I’ve already lost her.
I can’t help but watch her chest rise and fall, her mouth parted on a sigh, one of contentedness. My hands find her stomach, tracing her stretch marks with pride. I circle the ones on her hips, on the undersides of her breasts, and smile. This is beauty. This is exquisite perfection, and I’ve lost it. The ones on her stomach, though, tell stories of a lifetime, ones of horrors, ones of beauty, ones of heartbreak and pure bliss. They’re my favorite. They’re the most special.
She’s breathtaking, and as she softly snores, the pain comes. My heart aches as it beats in my chest. It throbs as it slows in realization, and when it momentarily stops as I remember her telling me how much she hates me, I cry.
The tears are barely there at first, barely leaking from the corners of my eyes, wet, hot, and bitter as they roll down my cheeks that are sure to have marks from her palms. I’m tremulous, obscene, and sorrow-filled as the tears land on my chest after falling from my chin. They show my weakness, represent my anger, and prove my selfishness.
As I weep quietly, she doesn’t wake, but that doesn’t stop my mind from traveling to all the good memories. The moment we heard Ace’s heartbeat on the monitor. The first time I held his little body in my arms. When his eyes first opened, seeing me the first time. When Lo told me she was carrying my baby girl, Jazzy. When we found out she was, in fact, a girl, and how after she was born, she was attached to me constantly. I promised to protect her, to protect Ace, too, and I failed them both.
I remember the moment she told me about Lilac. There was not a conscious thought in me that imagined my heart could grow fonder, but it did. It made me fall in love with Lo all over again, made me realize how perfect and beautiful she is, like I didn’t actually see it until that moment.
Then, everything went south, and nothing good came of our loss. Nothing good came after that day. Just pain, lots of pain.
As my body shakes with emotion and heartbreak, Lo stirs. Her surprised and sad expression while she takes in my sobs has me feeling weak and small. She takes in my agony. Her eyes scan me, those eyes that always see deeper than anyone else ever could. They gloss over, the tears bubbling in her, begging to spill over. Seeing her react this way has a little hope kindling in me. It shows she cares. It proves there’s love left, that we can be fixed.
But she shakes her head, as if reading my thoughts. She wipes her tears, heads to the closet, and comes back a few minutes later in a new dress. By then, my tears are at bay, in an elevator with the emergency stop pressed.
“I’m leaving, Jase,” she says, her voice emotionless. She sighs, fixing her face from the tears she only momentarily showed.
I wipe my face, the anger bubbling once again. Leaving? No. She’s fucking not. Not when we finally broke ground, not when I finally got her back in my arms, even if only momentarily.
“No.”
She takes in my face after my one word, and her indignation matches my own. “I am,” she reaffirms. “I’m not coming back this time. I’m-I’m done.”
The cold and bitter slice of her verbal blade cuts me open. She’s serious. She’s actually done. It shouldn’t surprise me that I broke her, that I broke us. But hearing it from her lips after what we just shared makes me feel like less of a man, one who couldn’t even be there for his wife.
“You want a divorce?” I ask, the question coming out like acid.
“I do.”
Lo
“You want a divorce?”
“I do.”
“You w-what?” he stammers, his face still full of emotion, like he didn’t anticipate my answer.
It was that moment. When I woke up to my crying husband, I realized it’s over. I saw him crying, and it hurt worse than my own pain. It thrashed at me worse than my own demons. I knew I would forgive him in a heartbeat just to see him smile again. Just to witness that stupid cocky smirk once more, I’d do anything.
And that was my problem.
I would sacrifice my own sanity for his solace.
I would give him everything when he’d already left me parched.
I would lose myself just to keep him whole.
“I want a divorce,” I repeat, slower, hoping my words take effect in his mind. “Those same ones I signed over a year ago, the ones you refused to file. File them. Set me free.” I choke over the word, my lip wobbling with pure misery.
“No,” he refuses, shaking his head over and over and over again. “You can’t just walk away like that.”
“Like you did? Because that’s what you did, Jason. You walked away and straight into her arms.”
“That’s-that’s—”
“Save it.” I stop him, holding my hand up. “You chose her when you should’ve chosen me—should’ve chosen us.”
“That’s not fair, Loren,” he begins, his face tortured, his chin wobbling with the same hurt as mine. “I stayed for as long as I could. You promised me. You promised you’d come back! How long was I supposed to wait? How alone was I supposed to be?” he yells as tears and heartache overtake him.
“You should have waited until I was ready! You should have loved me more! I should have been enough!” I finally give in, crying.
“You had Toby! I had no one! You picked him. You picked him over me!”
“You didn’t understand my pain. You didn’t understand my loss,” I tried to reason.
“You should have understood my loss and tried to make me understand yours,” he returns, his voice hoarse.
“There’s no way to describe that pain, Jase. There’s no explaining losing a piece of yourself.” I grip his cheek, brushing away stray tears. “I get it. She didn’t grow inside you. Her heart didn’t beat along with yours. You didn’t feel her as she moved as a part of you. But I did, Jase, and now, she’s gone, too. I lost my mother and daughter in the same week, and you walked away from us. Not me, Jase. You.”
Jase falls to his knees in front of me with a soft thud. The breath whooshes out of me with the impact. He strokes my stomach as realization of what he's ignored must've hit him. I don't want to look down at him, to see the pain I've experienced these last several years in his eyes, but I do anyway. He's my husband, and it should be reason enough. He peers up at me with the most devastating eyes.
What happens when the ocean cries? Is it like Jase’s eyes with tears dribbling over his lids? Or is it not noticeable since the ocean is already filled with the earth’s tears as it weeps, crying from unfairness, wanting to be loved and respected? If it’s not like his, then what are these droplets leaving my husband’s eyes? Are they tears of a man full of regret or a man who’s given up once again?
“I miss her, too. I mourned her, too. Fuck, love, I’m sorry,” he apologizes.
Tears cascade down my face, dripping onto him as he kneels in front of me.
His eyes are full of sorrow waiting to be shed. “I loved her, too, Lo. I wanted her, too. I wanted her so badly, but I had to be strong for you. I had to be strong for the kids. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t heal you, didn’t give you all the love you needed. I’m sorry I didn’t just listen. I know that’s what you needed. I know that now, Peaches. I realize how much it hurt to have me abandon us. I didn’t know what to do. I was hurting, too. I buried her alone, Lo. Not just her, but your mom. You never showed up, and I needed you to, but you couldn’t see past your grief.”
He holds his face in his palms, gripping too tightly.
“I don’t fault you for that,” he continues. “I don’t blame you for being miserable and inconsolable, but I grieved alone. I hurt alone, and I bore all the pain without you. I had to be a father to our kids, to help them grow and know that I loved them while you shut down. You completely fizzled out. You were a zombie. You didn’t exist. You no longer felt a thing. Couldn’t look into my eyes when I kissed you, didn’t speak for weeks. You had no sounds, no speech, no words, Lo. How could I help someone that didn’t tell me what to do? How could I be here when you pushed me away? You kept pushing until I stopped trying.” He hits his fist onto the ground, a resounding thud echoing in the quiet room. “I know I shouldn’t have stopped, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I lived with a body that no longer carted around a soul.”
I want to kneel down and hold him, put his pieces back together, hold him in my arms and fix him like he should have done me.
But I don’t. I can’t. Not this time.
“I know I've messed up beyond repair, Peaches. I even realize I'm not the man you currently need," he expresses on an exhale, like the words hurt him to say, like he knows they’re not true in his mind but says them for my benefit. His face is full of pain and despair, and I want it to go away. "But, Peaches, I need you to come back to me one final time." He stands up, cradling my face, like he's trying to connect us in more than the ways we're already linked.
“Whether it's next week, a month from now, hell, even a fucking year from now, I'll wait for you. Above all else, I believe in us now. It took me making the worst mistake—me losing you—to understand, but now, I do. Our love will sustain the most tremulous circumstances. I truly believe that. Even though you don’t have that love for me, I still think it’s there. It’s just hidden within the pain, wrapped like a rose in thorns, waiting to be plucked free.”
His hand trails down my stomach, absently tracing the faint scar from my last pregnancy with the softest of touches. Does he even realize he’s touching it?
Jase slowly meets my eyes once again. He brushes away a stray strand of hair that's sticking to my right eyelash, giving me tenderness he didn’t offer when I actually needed it.
“Just know that I understand you need something right now that I can't offer you. I love you, Peaches.”
His palms cup my jaw softly, gently, like we’re lovers all over again, like he didn’t fuck up, and I didn’t fuck up, and we’re fucking fine.
“And... and... I understand,” he whispers over and over and over again against my forehead.
He presses a long kiss on my forehead, just breathing slowly against my skin. It tickles, caressing me in the way it used to, before heartbreak, before madness, before hatred.
“I love you more than any goddamn words could ever express, and I'll be waiting. Find your way back to me,” his voice falters at that, the strain in his words has my chest burning.
Tears stream down my eyes like betrayal seeps from his heart. He did this to me—to us. He's the one who fucked up, the one who broke me. Why do I feel the devastation like I'm the one who caused this?
“Come back to me,” he recites in my ear, just like he always used to, making my chest itch like it’s dying from infection. He used to say that to me when I’d shut down. He’d beg, and right now, it’s almost like a promise to wait rather than a plea as he did so many times before.
“Come back to me,” he begs, kissing my lips like he’s dragging me back from the mindless hell I choose to stay in. It doesn’t work. It never does. “I know you aren’t aware, Loren. But I’m here, waiting, loving, and patient. I’m here. I’m always here.” He trails kisses up my throat, back down, and then back to my lips. “Can you feel my love? I’ll make you feel it, baby.” He cups my face, stroking it as gentle as ever. “I know you’re in there. I know you’re hurting, I know your pain is insurmountable. I know it’s unbearable, but we’re here. Your family. We’re waiting. Come back to us. Please, baby.”
As the memory flicks, hazy as can be, I’m hit with guilt. I’m overcome with a new grief. I could have been there for him. I could have fixed all of this. I could have been.
But he could have, too.
“I don't want to do this anymore,” I admit, the defeat in my voice apparent.
Reaching for my wedding ring, I take it off my finger. When I place it in his palm, he shudders. His entire body shaking makes me ache deep inside.
Pain is my prison.
Pain is my salve.
Pain will save me.
“Love isn't supposed to hurt this much, Jase,” I explain, closing his hand around the simple band that symbolizes our vows.
Immediately regretting the naked feeling it offers, I clench my other fist in hopes that I don’t grab it back. Instead of the argument I expected, he pulls me into his arms tightly, like his hold is our magic glue and it’ll somehow piece the broken shards that were lost from separation long ago.
Even though my heart may never heal from his betrayal, or my own betrayal too, his arms feel like home. He's my home no matter where the world takes us. He’s my courage no matter how much distance is placed between our bodies. He’s my saving grace no matter the damage that wrecks us.
With that realization, I sink into him, breathing him in, absorbing every morsel of love he’s offering. Lord knows I’ve been begging for it for the past year.
“Just because it isn't supposed to hurt this badly doesn't make it any less real,” he murmurs. “We're real. This love we share is real. This life we’ve created together is real. When you're ready to come back to me, I'll be waiting. I wasn’t here for your fall, Peaches, but I’ll make damn sure to be here for your rising.” He squeezes me once more, his muscles flexing with the motion. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch you last time, but I will if you ever fall again. I’ll be waiting.” He leans in, kissing my forehead, leaving me bereft and emotional. “Come back to me,” he whispers into my collar, trailing his nose up and down my neck affectionately. “Don’t walk away from this,” Jase implores, trying to touch me.
I back away, flinching from his touch. If he as little as brushes his skin against mine, I’ll cave. If he even gets close enough, I’ll lose my resolve. And I can’t do that right now. I have enough respect for myself to follow through, to be who I need to be for my heart and for my children.
“You made a promise, Lo. You’re mine, mine to love until the end.”
“It’s the end,” I offer. “It’s the end of us.”
“It’s not, Peaches! Dammit! We’re still married. We made vows!”
“Vows we both broke, Jason! In sickness and in health, right?” I come toe-to-toe with the man who was once my salvation, once my entire world, once my everything. “That’s what you fucking promised, right?” I yell, exasperated. When he doesn’t answer, I continue, “Well, I guess that promise meant nothing to you. I was sick, Jason, yet where was my husband?” I throw my hands up, wanting to scream until my lungs stopped working. “Oh, that’s right. He was fucking my best friend, and better yet, he was knocking her up!”
He stands there, speechless, his face forlorn and despondent, but I need his anger. Where’s his fight? Where’s the man I married? It sure as hell isn’t the man standing in front of me.
Which only makes my fall harder as the realization dawns on me that we’re both broken.
There’s a crack in my voice as I ask, “Why her? Why a baby? Why was she good enough to have one, but mine was taken from me?”
“Loren,” he chokes, his voice strained with pain. “Don’t do that.”
In that moment, I hear it. My Jase. But he’s not mine anymore. The indent of where my ring once was is proof of that.
“It’s true. She gets to have a child while mine, along with my mother, were taken from me. Now, I lost them, her, you...” I grip my face, lowering myself to the floor. “All for what? What’s the point anymore?”
Jase lowers himself to the sit next to me. When his arm brushes mine, I nearly hiss. The connection from our skin always ignites, even when we hate each other. Especially when we hate each other. After all, that’s how this all started. Him wanting me, and me hating him for wanting me.
He doesn’t move his arm, keeping it flush with mine and driving my senses insane. I want to reach for him, soak up that comfort he always offered, but it’s different now. We’re different.
As if sensing my pain, he grips my hand, twining his fingers with mine. The shockwave that shoots up my spine has me near tears. It’s bad enough I’m thinking of Lilac and the child now inside Ellie.
“You are,” he says.
“W-what?” I question.
“You are the reason, Lo. You’re the point.”
I shake my head, not understanding what he’s trying to say—that, or not wanting to hear it.
“You are,” he confirms, gripping my hand tighter.
He raises it to his mouth, his feathery breaths falling over each knuckle. When his lips barely touch the finger that once held my wedding ring, I shudder.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathe.
He shouldn’t have this effect on me. He broke me. He broke us. But he does. He always has... ever since that party over freshman summer.
“There’s nothing I can say to make this better, to make this even remotely okay, but, Lo...” He pauses, bringing his other hand to his face, dragging it down ever so slowly. Right there, in that moment, his age shows. He’s exhausted. “I’ll never stop trying. So long as this heart still beats in my chest, I will never stop trying. Because I’m going to be the man you married. I’m going to be the man that made your heart race, made you smile, made you feel like the only woman in the world. There’s no stopping my pursuit for your heart, to hold it once again, make it flicker with the ignition of my love. I’m not going anywhere.”
I continue to hold his hand because words aren’t coming. They aren’t there. The silence is enough for now. It’s all I can offer him while this raw. He’s too soft, stroking my hand with his thumb, like he has the right to rub me. He holds me as if he never held her. It rises again, the resentment. The bitterness. The betrayal.
Pulling my hand away, I stand and turn. My story can’t end here, but we do. I leave a bereft kiss on his forehead. His eyes swim with unshed heartache. After closing my eyes and inhaling his scent one last time, I walk away. This time, I don’t stop and think of how much it hurts him because this time, I’m choosing myself.
That realization has me rushing out of our room, out of our house, and out of this marriage.
Love her but leave her wild. The quote by Atticus burns behind my eyes, making the tears stream as freely as the quote refers. It’s the quote that got me through his abandonment. It doesn’t absolve me of my sins, but it reminds me the old Lo is in here somewhere. Buried deep, possibly, but there.
I found the quote randomly on Pinterest, when I had been trying to find reasons to live. And yet, it still means as much as it did that hopeless day. The day I could’ve ended it all.
The day I planned.
The day I wished I’d been stronger.
The day I lost my husband.